


Iceberry Wine

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fealty Kink, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Fenn Rau will serve the Mand'alore any way she asks him to.





	Iceberry Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandumbandflummery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/gifts).



Bo-Katan kept the speech short and inspiring: you have brought honor to Mandalore in the battle today, the road ahead is difficult, tomorrow we seek glory. The words weren't the same each time, he'd noted, and today's words went for rhetorical flourishes she had not used before. Alrich's hand showed, but only to one who knew that Bo-Katan's sister had been the only one in their family who favored fanciful speeches. Bo and the rest of their core group, the leaders whose heads would wind up on spikes if they failed, cared more for tactics than for the strategic placement of a metaphor. Rau didn't trust metaphors. They betrayed you, as you discovered that the solid war novel you'd been enjoying was actually an extended metaphor about sex.

The fighters who thronged before her, moved less by metaphor than by knowing they'd get to eat as soon as she finished the speech, applauded. Rau clapped in wide cupped hands, having paid little attention and hoping he wasn't applauding one of Alrich's terrible jokes. A glance to Ursa confirmed this speech had been more appropriate. She must have had a talk with her husband after the last time.

Bo-Katan turned from the impromptu podium, an upturned crate of weapons. Rau fell into step at her side, his weapon out for the rest to see the Protector knew his duty to the Mand'alor.

"Nice speech," he said as they made their way to her ship.

"Too floral. I can't let our forces get into their heads that I'm weak."

"They saw you leading the battle today. None of those here will ever think that. They have sworn to follow you anywhere."

She touched the hilt of the Darksaber. "They follow the weapon, not me." She always referred to it that way, he had noticed. Never her weapon, never her Darksaber. Bo-Katan viewed herself as custodian and regent. He had always assumed the difference was because she had not taken it in battle per the custom, but as their time together lengthened, he often wondered instead if the Darksaber's past itself was something she wished to hold separate from herself. She had lost her lover to the blade, then her sister. She would think of the price she'd paid each time she lit the sparkling saber.

They walked up the hatch to her ship, pulling it closed behind them.

"I don't follow a weapon," Rau said, moving his body to stand in front of hers, armor to armor. "You could drop it into the sea and I would follow you."

A smile moved her lips. "Then I will." She unclipped the Darksaber from her belt and held it out, as if holding it over the water.

"Suit yourself. I don't mind, although I am positive Ursa will kill you if you do." Her family had endured almost as much as Bo-Katan's to acquire the damn thing.

"She would be furious, wouldn't she?" Bo-Katan replaced the weapon at her belt with a sigh. It was heavier than it looked. He could not carry it for her, and she'd break his jaw if he made such a suggestion, but he could lighter her burdens in other, more pleasant ways. He shifted, crossing the centimeter between them as his hands took her arms.

The communication system beeped. Bo-Katan turned and went to the panel, touching the receiver button. "Go ahead."

"Ma'am, we've decoded the messages on the enemy ships we captured," said Kella Rook. Her team had been absent from the gathering, too busy digging into the electronic guts of the enemy computers before the self-destruct sequences could activate. Bo-Katan, Ursa, and Rau fought with weapons, Alrich with words and images, Rook with microscopic droids that skated the pathways of computer systems.

"What's the intel?"

"It's a list of Imperial deployments around Sundari."

Bo-Katan smiled tightly. "Good work." She glanced at the chronometer. "I will gather the rest of the commanders in three hours. You can present what you found."

"Yes, ma'am."

The transmission closed. Bo-Katan turned her head and read his unasked question. "It's been a long day and if the intel is good, it will be a long night as we make our plans. I'll let the others rest a little while first."

"You don't have to explain your decisions to me."

"No, but I will continue to tell you my reasons because if they make sense to us both, it's probably a wise decision."

"Or we're both sleep-deprived, hungry, drugged," he ticked off on his fingers, "mentally controlled by Force users, mentally controlled by a heretofore unknown Imperial weapon, drunk...." Bo-Katan's hand closed over his, stopping the count.

"You'd assume we were controlled by the Force before you'd assume we were drunk?"

"I'd assume you would make good decisions even after two bottles of iceberry wine." It hadn't been two bottles. They'd barely swallowed a glass each that night she'd first dragged him into her bunk. He saw she remembered the same.

"I haven't had cause to regret those decisions yet," she said, and she kissed him, her mouth opening against his. Three hours. They should eat, and they should try to sleep. As she'd said, it was bound to be a long night. Of course, there were many pleasant ways to encourage sleep. Another glass of wine. Soothing music.

Bo-Katan grinded her hips against his, and he smiled into her insistent kisses. That as well.

His hands knew the clasp of her belt. She reached for his but he shook his head and her hand dropped, a decadent smirk forming over her face as Rau pulled her belt aside and unfastened the toggle to her trousers. He went to pull them off when her hand took his arm.

"Not all the way."

Pity. He'd liked to have balanced her on one foot, the other leg resting on his shoulder. "Yes, ma'am," he said, accepting this new challenge. She kissed him again, angling towards the seat, and he took her meaning. He dragged the trousers of her armor down almost to her knees as she sat down and he knelt before her. Rau lifted her legs, bringing them down again behind him, her trousers trapping his neck, forcing his face where he most enjoyed being.

They didn't always have time for this. Edgy after a battle, and sometimes edgier before, often they had little room and less time. She would tug his prick free from his armor, and pull her own clothes away leaving barely enough room. They'd stood in an alcove of someone else's ship more than once, hushing each other's soft noises as they copulated like frer-wolves. Once, after a raid that should have killed him, Bo-Katan had made Rau climb back into the pilot's chair of his ship, and she'd straddled him, impaling herself as she'd scolded him for being so reckless.

Tonight was more a celebration and a rest between fights. Rau took his ease, shifting his weight before nosing in to the thick red curls, taking a deep breath of her. He reached out with a swipe of tongue, knowing the very first touch always thrilled her. Bo-Katan shuddered around him. He teased at her then, taking short licks, spreading her soft lips open to reveal pink folds. 

It was the role and the privilege of the Protectors to serve the Mand'alore. Rau held no illusions that he was the first to serve this particular way, pressing his mouth against her hungrily. He lapped at her the way she enjoyed best, with strong strokes over and over at the same place, breaking off every minute or two to place close-lipped kisses on the aching nub. He'd been a quick student of her body, even on that first night, and she was not shy in telling him her needs.

He glanced up, hoping to meet her eyes with a devilish wink, but Bo-Katan's eyelids squeezed shut tightly, cutting herself off to dive deep into the fantasy she was using tonight. There was always a fantasy. Some other man or woman was touching her as he set back to his task. Some famous face from a holo or some name from her past was inside her mind, perhaps even a dirty fantasy of someone she knew now, taking his place as Rau tasted her. It aroused him to consider that she was using him as a plaything, that he was a tool in the Mand'alor's hand as she reached down, guiding his head. Others might be offended, might break off and demand her attention for themselves. They were fools. Rau focused on bringing her pleasure. This was his favorite duty.

Inside his own trousers, his erection pained him, bent under pressure and needing room to grow. He wriggled to get a bit of relief, and Bo-Katan let out a soft cry as he moved. Her knees bent, pulling him in closer until all he could breathe was her scent. She dripped a rich wetness while he kept up the firm touches where she needed him. She was close. He didn't dare alter his pattern now or she would lose the thread of whatever moment she played behind her eyes.

She swore and said, "Fenn, please!" and she came, her hips bucking against his face with a sweet rush of fluid. He drank her like honey, like iceberry wine, nuzzling at her, coaxing more quakes from her taut body.

"Enough," she said at last, and he stopped. Together they lifted her legs from his neck, and she relaxed them again, boneless in the chair. She didn't like him kissing her after he pleasured her, and so he wiped his face on a handkerchief instead before helping her to pull her trousers back on.

"Sleep?" he asked her.

"We should eat," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Then we should work."

"Yes. But a short rest before will do us both good." He held out his hand, and she took it, getting to her feet and walking with him back to the tight bunk where they spent their nights. "You take this one. I'll crawl into the other."

Bo-Katan rested her head against his. "Not joining me?"

"You sleep better alone. If we're both still alive tomorrow night, then I'll join you happily. I promise."

"I'll take that promise," she said with a yawn, toeing off her boots and collapsing against the pillow. Within minutes, she'd fallen into slumber. He watched her from the other bunk. He could sleep. He should sleep, given that they'd likely attack the capital tomorrow. A tired warrior was a dead warrior.

She'd said his name.

Rau was no one's consort. When this was over, and the Empire gone from Mandalore for good, their leader should take a husband or wife of high birth as noble as her own well-regarded family. She was not meant for a boy plucked from his poor clan and taught to fight nor for the aging soldier that boy had grown into. They had affection between them, and desire, and loyalty. His honor was to serve her. His duty was to protect her. He was not sure what to do with the care he felt for her, therefore he ignored the emotion. He was the right hand of the Mand'alore and he accepted his place as such.

But she'd said his name.

The Mand'alore slept, and Rau watched over her. This was his task. He was her Protector.


End file.
